


You Said You Wouldn’t Leave Me

by iwillhaveamoonbase



Series: You and I Were Meant for Something Better [3]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Why Did I Write This?, this hurt writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillhaveamoonbase/pseuds/iwillhaveamoonbase
Summary: Rayla reflects on her life on the day of Callum’s funeralTechnically part of the We Could Be Heroes verse, but not really necessary to have read to understand what’s going on here.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: You and I Were Meant for Something Better [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745245
Comments: 36
Kudos: 78





	You Said You Wouldn’t Leave Me

“Mom?” Aisling put her hand on Rayla’s withered shoulder. “It’s time for Dad’s funeral.” Rayla could barely keep the tears at bay. She had done her best to keep her promise that she would keep Callum alive as long as she did, but he had only made it to 105. Everyone praised her since humans were lucky to even make it to a hundred…but did she really have fifteen years of life without him to go?

The small comfort that he had gone in his sleep wasn’t even enough to keep her from wanting to throw herself over the top of the Spire anymore. “How many days has it been?”

“It’s been a week, Mom.”

“Too long.” Rayla looked down at her hands. She was all that was left of their friends on the Pentarchy side of the Border now. Soren, Claudia, and Ezran had passed long ago and Zaras had a hard time staying in one place for long after Claudia’s death. 

Aisling sat in front of Rayla, Callum’s green eyes staring right into her soul. Why had her husband’s genes been so strong and given all of their children and so many of their grandchildren his eyes? It would have been easier if she didn’t see those too bright eyes following her like she was a ghost. “Mom, it’s OK. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

Rayla nodded silently. They left her and Callum’s bedroom in the Castle in Katolis and went to the grounds. Callum was going to be burned with the highest honors, the half-brother of one of the greatest kings in Katolian history and the greatest mage humanity had ever seen. As Rayla walked down the steps to the grounds, she could feel the cameras going off. Her sons, Conroy and Shavon, were already on top of it, scolding them for bothering a grieving widow.

“I’m a widow, Aisling. Oh, Sources…” Aisling squeezed her hand. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to leave me…”

“Mom, I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but Dad was human. It was impossible from the start to think he’d live as long as you would.”

“His magic-”

“Daddy-” Aisling’s voice caught for a moment. “Daddy wouldn’t have used his magic to live longer. It would have involved taking life from another living thing. You know better than anyone how much he would have hated that.”

Rayla turned to Aisling. Her oldest and the one that had taken after her the most. Aisling wasn’t nearly as in touch with her feelings as her siblings and was far more guarded than was probably good for her, but she had been as open with Callum as Rayla had been. Aisling had been his little assistant during his magical tests and had never taken kindly to people intruding on what she deemed ‘their time.’ Rayla lay a hand on Aisling’s cheek, bringing their foreheads together. “I know you miss him.” Aisling briefly gripped Rayla’s wrist. “He named you, you know. He called you his dream from the moment we found out I was pregnant with you. He refused to find a name for you that didn’t mean something similar. He believed all four of you were the vision of the future. I kept telling him he was putting too much pressure on you all…”

“Mom…” 

“But, look at you. The first Border representative and a mage that gave your father a run for his money. He was so proud of all of you. Would call you his greatest accomplishments, after marrying me. And I miss him so much I can feel my heart breaking, Aisling.” Rayla could feel the tears coming back. “Let’s do this.”

Rayla smiled lightly as she saw Eryn talking to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, no doubt telling them that Rayla wanted to be left alone. She had been in a form of self-isolation since Callum’s death; physically there with everyone and going through the motions, but, mentally, somewhere much happier. 

Rayla smiled as she saw that the funeral was being held out in the open instead of inside a Church as was custom in Katolis before they moved on to the funeral pyre. Easels displayed Callum’s art as well as his father’s and their children’s own creations. Rayla’s breath caught when she saw the painting he had once done of her, each stroke so full of love and devotion it took her breath away each time. He had slaved over that particular piece and had never been satisfied with it, calling it a pale imitation of her beauty. She had always felt that he made her more beautiful than she actually was but he had refused to hear any different. Callum had probably asked for that painting to be there.

Ezran and Aanya’s own daughter, Sarai, paid respects to Rayla, the whole family curtseying and bowing to her as the oldest member of the royal family. It didn’t matter how much Rayla stressed how much she didn’t care for decorum; she was a princess of Katolis by marriage and certain rules had to be followed. At least, no one was wearing black. Callum hadn’t wanted anyone to wear black at his funeral, instead insisting in his will that all attendees where something representing their cultural heritage. It was…nice to see everyone had followed through with that. Rayla couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so much color in one place. It was a befitting way to honor Callum. 

“Rayla.” Rayla turned to see Zaras, tears swimming in her dark eyes. “I’m so sorry, my friend.” Rayla shook her head, letting Zaras pull her into a hug. 

“You’re still short,” Rayla whispered.

Zaras sniffed. “And you’re still shite with emotions.”

“Aye. Thank you for coming.”

“He was my friend, too. Callum was a good man, Rayla.” They pulled back, taking the other in. “No black?”

“Callum didn’t want that. He said,” her breath hitched, “he said he didn’t want people to mourn him. He wanted everyone to celebrate his life and the world we live in now.”

“Well, isn’t that just like him? 

“It is. How are you doing, Zaras?”

“It’s been difficult without Claudia. I see our kids every couple months, but I can’t stand to be in one place for more than two weeks. Everything just reminds me of her.”

“I know what you mean.”

Zaras smiled sadly, sitting beside Rayla when the funeral finally started. Rayla barely paid attention as Callum’s students delivered eulogies, her and Callum’s children speaking about how much they would miss him, and, finally, Sarai delivering the final speech as not only the Queen of Katolis but also as Callum’s niece and student in peace relations.

When they finally got up to take his funeral to the pyre, Aisling, Conroy, Shavon, and Eryn took the handles of the palanquin until they put it into the cart that would take Callum’s body the rest of the way. As Rayla walked through the streets of Katolis, she saw the same bright colors that adorned everyone at the ceremony, but no one seemed to be having fun. Even the smallest child in town seemed to know what was happening today. Long ago, she would have walked past glares and insults from people who just couldn’t find it in their hearts to understand what she and Callum had. Now, people bowed out of reverence for her and looked at her with respect and adoration. She had been called a champion of the people because she rewore all of her fancy dresses multiple times and had called for money to be funneled into schools and public parks like they were back in Silver Grove. She couldn’t understand it; she simply believed that it was the royal family’s job to invest in their citizens, but that had been the tipping point and led to her becoming a beloved role model instead of a potential usurper. 

Shavon came up beside her, placing a hand around her elbows. “You doing OK, Mum?” Rayla could hear the slight accent in Shavon’s voice. Out of all of his siblings, he had spent the most time in Xadia during his childhood and had adopted a Xadian accent and speech style rather than the more Katolian one his three siblings had form all the time on the border and in Katolis. Tiadrin, Lain, and Runaan and Ethari had kept him over several summers due to his love of Ethari’s metal work and desire to connect to his Moonshadow heritage. 

Rayla nodded. “Aye.”

“You don’t have to lie, you know. You hate lying. No one will think poorly of you for not being OK.”

“I’m not OK, Shavon. Your father wanted today to be as happy a day as possible, but we’re still burning his body. He’s still…he’s still _gone_. I don’t want to wake up every day without him.”

“Fifteen years isn’t that long. Besides, maybe, you’ll find someone-”

Rayla shook her head. “Don’t finish that sentence. Callum once made me promise not to completely give up on love if something happened to him. But…it’s different. I’m 106 now and I know I can’t give any of my heart to someone else. My Heart is being burned today. I’ll travel with Zaras or something.”

“You can stay with me and Kisa, if you want. There’s always room at our place.” Shavon had long settled at the Tidebound capital with his Del Barian wife. Callum had loved visiting them, swimming in the ocean even when his joints would no longer tolerate his long swims. 

“Maybe time by the coast would be nice.” 

“Aye. I think it would, Mum.” 

Shavon moved over when he was called by one of his children. He placed a quick peck on Rayla’s cheek, promising to talk to her soon. Rayla didn’t doubt he would try to keep that promise. Conroy quickly took his place, holding out his arm towards her like a proper gentleman. “And I’m being escorted now? What would your husband say?”

“He would say I’m being a good son to my mother.” Conroy pushed his glasses up, keeping his eyes forward. “You need anything?”

“No. Just wondering why my children won’t leave me alone.”

“We’re worried about you.” Rayla raised a brow. Conroy was the most honest person Rayla had ever met, but lacked tact if you asked Runaan. He had lied to Rayla once as a child and she had been so upset he had never done it again. Rayla had spent many nights wondering if she’d traumatized her own child over him being a child and being afraid of trouble. Turned out, Conroy was simply more like her and Runaan; he didn’t like being lied to himself so he didn’t lie to others if he could help it. Conroy was probably the least magically inclined of all of her children, but his theorems had proven invaluable on more than one occasion. He was able to fix tricky problems, but didn’t quite have the skill that matched the rest of the family. He and Aisling tended to work together, expanding on Callum’s theories and long forgotten magical spells that mixed the arcana. 

“Are you?” Rayla tilted her head.

“No one can figure out what you’ve been thinking since Dad died. Not even Aisling.”

“I’m not thinking about much, Conroy.”

“When my first husband died, I thought, for sure, it was the end for me. I couldn’t go on. But, Dad told me to keep living for his sake as well as my own.”

“Sounds like Callum,” Rayla sighed into the wind. “He loved you so much and he didn’t want you to give up on life or love.”

“Even though I’m the failure of the family?”

Rayla sent a sharp glare at him. “Don’t ever think of yourself like that. You were never a failure. No, you couldn’t do magic to the same degree as the others, but you and Aisling have done amazing things, things she couldn’t have done without you. Your father praised your mind and your artistic talents. You got both of those from him. I think, you just got your magic from me. It’s there, but it’s not as strong as it could be. It’s probably my fault,” Rayla looked down at the ground. 

“No, Mom. Even among elves magical talent varies wildly, right?”

“Aye, it does. Shavon’s magical talent is more akin to Ethari’s was; imbuing magic in everything he creates. Aisling is the one most like your father while Eryn is naturally gifted in combing the arcana without thinking about it. You all have a connection to multiple arcana, and I’m just attached to the moon.” 

“Dad wasn’t disappointed with my talents?” 

Rayla’s heart almost broke with how small Conroy’s voice was. “No, Conroy. He used to brag about how smart you are and what a good team player you are. He told everyone that your research would have been for naught if you refused to share them with Aisling or even Eryn. He was proud that there was never an issue with you sharing and even prouder that you surpassed him explaining what he struggled to understand himself sometimes.”

Conroy smiled. “I remember him taking all of us out to draw.”

“When we were traveling?”

“Yeah. You would sleep in the shade-”

“Resting my eyes.”

“Right, you would rest your eyes while we drew whatever we saw. Dad always drew you; you know. I don’t think he could keep his eyes off you long enough to capture the world around us without you in it. He always had the stunning natural backgrounds, but you were at the center every time.”

“Were you the one that put that painting up of me?”

Conroy’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Oh, the soft one? Dad wanted it up. It was his favorite painting of you.”

“I see. He had books of sketches of you kids, too. Shelves and shelves in our house are full of sketches of the lot of you and, eventually, your families. I told him a camera was faster but he insisted that a drawing captured the moment better.”

“You know Dad. Mr. Artiste.”

All too soon, they came to the pyre. Rayla stood silent as a member of the Council delivered a speech about Callum’s life. She had been offered a torch to light his body, an honor normally reserved for the highest ranked person present. Rayla had kindly refused, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to do it. She looked on as Sarai lit the pyre. Rayla closed her eyes and turned her head as the tears welled up. This was so wrong. What if they were wrong and he wasn’t gone? What if they were killing him right now? 

“I got you, Mom,” Eryn whispered. Rayla nodded, gripping her hand that lay across her shoulder. “It’ll be OK. Dad didn’t feel any pain. And he’s not feeling any now.”

“What if he’s still conscience in there, Eryn?”

Eryn shook her head. “I checked the body myself. I promise, he’s not.”

Rayla looked Eryn in the eyes. “You promise?”

A soft nod. “I promise. It’s just his body. His soul isn’t in there anymore.”

Rayla sighed. She stood at the pyre with everyone else for five more minutes, grateful when tradition let them finally move away from the fire. It had taken too much out of her to watch the flames take Callum’s body and turn it into ash. She finally understood those people who couldn’t stop themselves from throwing themselves on a funeral pyre; she had briefly considered doing it herself. But Callum wouldn’t have wanted that. It would have broken his heart to see her do so she could feel that he was somewhere, watching her.

Eryn didn’t once leave her side as they made their way back to the castle. Her and Callum’s youngest. Eryn was a full ten years younger than Aisling and had always felt like the odd one out. She hadn’t seen all the changes to the world her siblings had and had grown-up a bit more used to peace and understanding between Xadia and the Pentarchy. She had been a late bloomer when it came to magic, much like her father, but it had come just as easily to her as it had to him. The difference was, Eryn was always mixing arcana without trying and running circles around everyone who had surpassed her once upon a time. She had been Rayla’s shadow for much of her childhood before finally coming into her own with magic. Even now, a day didn’t go by where Eryn didn’t contact Rayla at some point.

Rayla stayed for the Feast of Souls. Everyone shared stories of Callum, laughing at his silliness and commending his courage in the war. They showed a few videos of him from the various newscasts over the years. Rayla stared at the table. Her children were all grown with grandchildren of their own and Callum’s side of the family was continuing to follow in Ezran’s footsteps and Callum’s teachings. Peace had come a long time ago and she wasn’t worried anymore.

When Rayla was finally released to go to bed, her family hugged her tight. It was as if they all knew something she didn’t. Rayla felt like a ghost as she changed into one of Callum’s old shirts and sleep pants. They still smelled like him. She climbed into bed, reaching out her hand on his spot. She couldn’t stop herself from grabbing his pillow, holding it close. Finally, her sobs came out. She wailed her grief and didn’t care who heard her. He was gone. Callum was gone and she wanted to be with him. After hours of crying, she had no more tears to give the universe that had so cruelly taken him from her. She closed her eyes and entered a sleep her children knew they wouldn’t be able to wake her from.

**\----------------------------------------------------**

**Breaking news: The People’s Princess, Princess Rayla, wife of Prince Callum has passed. At 106, she was young for a Moonshadow elf. Autopsy reports all show that she was in perfect health for an elf her age. Her children claim it was a broken heart that, unfortunately, took her life. Given her behavior at Prince Callum’s funeral yesterday, it’s not farfetched. Two of the brightest stars the world has ever seen have been extinguished.**

\-----------------------------------------------

Rayla stood in a field, in a soft white dress. Callum smiled as he ran a hand through her hair and down her cheek. “Callum?”

“Ray, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To the Other Side.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?”

“I promise.” Callum held out his hand. She didn’t hesitate; she grabbed it and held on for all she was worth. 

“OK. I love you, Callum.”

“I love you, too, Ray.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I never write angst or tragedy. The few times I've done it, I feel like I've fallen flat and my life has been depressing enough without it. But, I listened to Shania Twain's From this Moment on loop and then I started thinking about my Mom's death and....this happened.


End file.
